by Ann Purser
“Right, folks. Here we are, then. I’ll drop you by the market and pick you up same place at half past eleven?”
“Make it eleven,” said Ivy. “We’ll have coffee first, and then be ready. Thank you, Elvis.”
Roy drove his trundle out of the specially adapted taxi with panache, and they set off to browse around the market square. It was a large trading area, with the stalls protected by blue-and-white-striped awnings. Unlike some markets, where the majority of goods for sale are cheap clothing, mostly for women, Thornwell had managed to maintain a real mixture of interesting bargains. There were the usual secondhand books, fruits and vegetables, bread and cakes, but also a collectors’ stall, where Roy had picked up several interesting items over the years.
“Let’s start with Ikey Preston,” he said now. “He might have some little gem you like. A wedding present from me to you.”
“I don’t need any presents,” Ivy said severely. “And anyway, have we had permission from Rev. Dorothy to go ahead with the second reading of the banns tomorrow?”
“Of course we shall go ahead,” Roy said, stopping beside the collectors’ stall. “We have heard no more, and I shall confirm with a call to Rev. Dorothy when we get back to Springfields. Now, good morning, Ikey, what treasures have you got for us?”
Roy was not to be dissuaded, and Ivy finally selected a small brooch with seed pearls and garnets woven into a gold heart. “You are an old softie, Roy,” she said, as he reached up to pin it onto her coat.
“I’m sure a thank-you kiss would not come amiss,” said Ikey, grinning broadly. “Good luck, you two. See you next week, Mr. Goodman?”
“There’ll be no more presents until Christmas!” said Ivy, and Roy smiled.
“Time for coffee,” he said.
• • •
THE COFFEEHOUSE WAS in the market square, close to where they would meet Elvis, and they chose a window seat with views of the busy shoppers.
“What would we do without Elvis?” said Roy, tackling a sugary jam doughnut.
“We’d be stuck at Springfields, and if you ask me, we’d soon be—” Ivy suddenly stopped speaking and stared fixedly out of the window.
“What is it, Ivy? Someone you know?”
“Not sure,” she said. “Over there, Roy. Look at the fruit stall. That man with his back to us. Isn’t that Frankenstein?”
Ivy was pale, and Roy peered anxiously out of the steamed-up window. “Wait until he turns around. We’ll be able to see then. Oh look! Here he comes. No, Ivy, it’s not him. This one’s got a beard! You can relax, beloved.”
They were subdued when Elvis returned to help Roy into his trundle and then drive them both on their way to Maleham’s. “Too cold for you today, Miss Beasley?” he said. “You’re looking a bit peaky. I’ve got the heating on full blast.”
“No, no. We had a little shock. All a mistake, though. I’m perfectly all right, thank you. Now Elvis, here we are. We shan’t be long. Roy, you don’t need the trundle. Hang on to my arm and we can manage. We just have to ask a few questions. See you in a few minutes, Elvis.”
They entered Maleham’s, and were immediately approached by a pleasant girl offering help. “We’ve already given you an order for a bed, but we wish to look for a suitable matching wardrobe,” said Roy. They had agreed they would go straight up to the department where Beryl had told Ivy she loved to browse.
“We can manage the lift ourselves, thank you,” said Roy. “Very simple. I’ll hold on to Ivy and we’ll march off together!”
The sales assistant smiled indulgently. What a nice old couple! It was quite cheering to see how excited they were about their future, especially since they couldn’t have much of a future left!
The lift was in the far corner of the ground floor, and with no difficulty at all, they pressed the right button and were conveyed safely to the bedroom furniture department. Apart from a young couple musing over a four-poster, there were no customers around. Ivy told Roy to sit down on a lavishly upholstered stool, and went round the corner of the office to look for Beryl. She thought she caught sight of her, but the woman disappeared through a door marked STAFF ONLY. Not Beryl, then.
“No sign of her,” she said to Roy, returning to where he was still obediently waiting. “At least, I don’t think so. We’d better go back downstairs and ask if we can have her details.”
“They may regard them as confidential,” warned Roy.
“We can only ask. I’ll think of some good reason why we want to get in touch.”
The lift was back on the ground floor, and Ivy and Roy waited until it returned and opened its doors to let them in.
“Press ground floor, then,” said Ivy. “Ugh! Somebody’s been smoking in here. I’m sure that’s not allowed.”
The lift came to a trembling halt, and the light went out. Ivy felt her way to the necessary panel of buttons.
“Bottom button, Ivy,” said Roy. Ivy obeyed, but the doors remained shut. He frowned. “Try the next one up. That should do it.”
But still the doors remained shut, and after that Ivy pressed all the buttons angrily, one by one, and still nothing happened.
Ivy peered through the dark window of the lift. “It’s a brick wall,” she said nervously. “I think we’re stuck between floors, Roy. And that cigarette smell is making me feel sick.”
“Try the emergency button again. It’s bound to get us going again. Don’t worry, my love. Someone is bound to realise the lift’s stuck, and then we’ll be out and on our way home.”
Thirty-two
ELVIS HAD FINISHED his library book, listened to the news on the car radio, and now looked at his watch. It was half an hour since Ivy and Roy went off into the store. Ivy had said a few minutes, hadn’t she? Ah, well, they had probably been held up by an overzealous salesman. He would give them another five minutes, then go and check that they were all right. He had been taxiing them around for a long time now, and was fond of the old couple. He wouldn’t want them to come to any harm.
• • •
“EXCUSE ME,” SAID the young man who had been trying out the four-poster. Sam, the cheerful sales assistant, looked hopeful. But the young man wanted only to point out that the lift wasn’t working. “My wife’s expecting, and feels a bit dizzy. We need to get out into the air as quickly as possible.”
“So sorry. Best to use the stairs, if you need to hurry. That lift is very unreliable. I do apologise. When is the baby due?”
“Any minute now, if we don’t get out of here. We’ll be off down the stairs. Come on, love, hold on to me.”
Sam sighed. Another lost sale. Still, a new couple had just arrived in the department, and were asking about bedside tables. He put on his best smile, and forgot all about the lift.
• • •
THE ATMOSPHERE IN the dark box was decidedly stuffy. Roy was finding it difficult to breathe properly, and Ivy insisted that he should sit on a small stool in the corner. “But what about you, my love?” he said, feeling his way over and sitting down gratefully. “You must be getting tired. Why don’t you sit on my lap?”
“I’m fine,” said Ivy, doing her best to keep her spirits up. “I’ll leave your naughty suggestion until I’m desperate!”
“We’re sure to be rescued soon,” said Roy.
“Do you think we should try shouting for help?”
“Why not? Ready? One, two, three, shout!”
They both chorused a hoarse “Help!” and waited hopefully. But there was no reply, and Roy said he thought the lift was a gimcrack modern one, and probably soundproof. He was worried that Ivy, in spite of her efforts to seem cheerful, sounded shaky.
“Try your mobile, Ivy. You can dial an emergency number.”
Ivy took out her phone, and clumsily felt her way round it, but could get no signal. “Not surprising, shut up in a brick box,” she said, and took a deep breath. “Oh Roy, I think I’m going to be sick!” she said.
“No, you’re not,” he said firmly. “Come her
e and sit on my lap. I promise not to take advantage of you!” He held out his hand, and Ivy smiled bravely, and perched herself on his knobbly knees. He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “Whatever happens, my dearest,” he said, “I want to tell you that since I met you, I have been happier than at any other time in my life. I love you dearly, and always will.”
Ivy put her arms around him, holding on tight, and they sat like this, waiting to see what Fate held in store for them.
• • •
THE LIFT SUDDENLY juddered, and the light came on. “Sit tight, dear,” said Roy, “just in case it stops again.”
But it continued on its slow journey to the ground floor, where it stopped, and the doors opened. The first face they saw was that of Elvis, looking extremely anxious.
“I’ll sue the buggers!” he said loudly. “Fancy leaving an old couple stuck in a lift for over half an hour! Here, you,” he said to a worried assistant, “fetch the manager at once.”
“I’m here already,” said Mr. Maleham, pushing his way through the crowd that had gathered outside the lift. He looked inside and saw a pale-faced old lady perched on the knees of an equally sickly-looking old man. He made a quick decision to defuse the tense situation, and laughed.
“You’ve not wasted any time, sir,” he said, offering his hand to Ivy, and helping her out of the lift. “Is this your taxi man? Ah, then perhaps all three of you would come along to my office and I’ll do my best to make amends for this unpleasant experience.”
A very grumpy Elvis followed the others to the office, and reluctantly accepted a small glass of brandy.
“I keep it for emergencies,” Mr. Maleham said, handing glasses to Ivy and Roy. “I do hope you will sit down and relax for a few minutes. I shall investigate what went wrong with the lift, of course, but meanwhile I do apologise most sincerely. You were both very brave. Nothing worse than being shut up in a small, dark space.”
“Oh yes, there is,” Ivy said, her colour returning. “If anyone asked me, I’d say being found dead in a bed in Maleham’s Furniture Store was worse.”
Mr. Maleham swallowed hard. This old bat was quite likely to cause more trouble, he decided, and said that the police were very close to finding the culprit. Steven Wright had been a valued employee, and was much missed, he added.
“He was also my nephew,” said Roy flatly. “And I miss him, too. I am quite ready to leave now. And you, Ivy? Come on, then, Elvis. Let’s be on our way. Thank you for the brandy, Mr. Maleham. We shall take no further steps, but I advise you to get the lift fixed at once. Other trapped customers may not be so tolerant. Good morning.”
Mr. Maleham stood up, anxious to get rid of them. But Ivy stayed in her seat. “One more thing, Mr. Maleham,” she said. “A small request. Can you give us a telephone number or address for your relation, Beryl Maleham? I met her in your store, and we had a really good chat. I’d like to get in touch, and invite her over to Springfields for a cup of tea. She seemed quite low, I thought.”
“Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Maleham. “Here’s my address book. Now, Beryl, Beryl, married my cousin. Yes, here it is. I’ll get my secretary to jot it down for you. So kind of you. I’m sure she’ll be really pleased. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
• • •
SAFELY BACK IN Elvis’s taxi, Ivy and Roy were silent, still a little shaken up, and thinking back over their experience.
“Straight back to Springfields now?” said Elvis.
“Yes, please,” said Ivy. “But could you pick us up on Monday? Say about ten o’clock? I must make a call to Beryl when we get back, and hope to visit her with a an invitation to tea.”
“Not ‘I,’ dearest,” said Roy. “We will visit her together, or not at all. And that is an order.”
Elvis waited for a dusty answer from Ivy, but all she said was, “Of course, my dear. You know best.”
Thirty-three
ELVIS SAW HIS passengers safely back in Springfields, and was about to drive off when he noticed a piece of folded paper tucked under his rear windscreen wiper. He got out again, slid it from underneath the wiper and unfolded it. The message was in red ink capitals, and he read it with a sinking heart.
TO IVY BEASLEY. DO WHAT YOUR TOLD, OR NEXT TIME THERE WONT BE NO RESCUE. NO MORE BANS, OR ELSE!
Elvis took the piece of paper between thumb and forefinger and walked back into Springfields reception. He held the paper out of sight, and asked Miss Pinkney, who was on duty, if she had the address for Mr. Halfhide, friend of Ivy and Roy. Always anxious to be helpful, she quickly found the number and Elvis left. He did not want either Ivy or Roy to see him returning into reception, and was quickly in his taxi and making his way round the Green into Hangman’s Lane.
Miriam Blake was in her front garden, and saw the taxi arriving outside Gus’s cottage. Why would he want a taxi? He had his own car now, and that was parked up the end of the row, under the trees. She was sure he was at home, and knelt down to attack nonexistent weeds, so that she was in earshot of a conversation.
Gus looked out of his window and saw Elvis. He had met him once or twice up at Springfields, and went quickly to the door, hoping nothing was wrong.
“Can I come in a minute, sir?” Elvis said. “It’s to do with your friend, Miss Beasley.”
“Ivy? Nothing wrong, I hope.”
“Dunno, yet.”
“Well, come in, come in.” Gus ushered him into his small living room, and out of the corner of his eye noticed Miriam standing close to the low garden wall. “Now, what is this all about?”
Elvis silently handed the paper to Gus, and watched him read it and heard him groan.
“Oh no. Not another one. Where did you find it?”
Elvis then gave him a detailed account of what had happened at Maleham’s, and said he had noticed the message only when he was leaving Springfields.
“But what a horrible thing for Ivy and Roy to go through! Trapped between floors in a lift!”
“With no light nor nothing,” said Elvis.
“So how are they? And have they seen this horrible thing?” He threw the paper onto a small table by the fire and motioned to Elvis to sit down.
Elvis perched on the edge of a rickety dining chair, and said that he thought they’d had enough shocks for one day, and that was why he had decided to bring the message down to Gus. “You said something about another one, Mr. Halfhide,” he said. “This is not the first, then?”
Gus shook his head. “There’s something very nasty happening, I’m afraid. All because Ivy and Roy are intending to marry.”
“That’ll be about money, then,” said Elvis wisely. “It’s always money. Root of all evil, an’ that.”
“Anyway,” said Gus, “I’ll keep it for the moment and have a serious think about what to do.”
“Don’t forget them banns are due to be given a second reading tomorrow, Mr. Halfhide. I should bring in the police, if I was you.”
“We already have, Elvis. They’re on the case. But if you think of anything useful, you can always tell us. Enquire Within is working flat out to find out what’s going on.”
“Just don’t let the vicar call them banns; that’s all I’m saying. Now I’ll be off. Thanks, Mr. Halfhide. They mean quite a lot to me, those old things, actually.”
“We’ll be on our guard,” said Gus, opening his front door. “And don’t forget, you can call me day or night.”
Elvis was about to get into his taxi, when he turned back. “There was one thing,” he said. “Did Miss Beasley or Mr. Goodman tell you about that bloke I picked up in the taxi? Resembled the man who challenged the banns. Well, when I got out of the taxi to go and find them in Maleham’s, I could swear I saw him again, coming out of the back of the store. O’ course, there’s lots of men wear earrings an’ that, but he sort of swaggered, if you know what I mean. Might be worth following up.”
• • •
“DEIRDRE? GUS HERE. Can I come up and see you for a bit? Something importa
nt has come up.”
“Oh Gus, I’m sorry. I’m due up at the Hall for a drink with Theo.”
“Cancel it. This really is important, Deirdre. And time is of the essence.”
Silence. Then Deirdre said that in that case he should come up to Tawny Wings straight away, and she would put off her drink with the squire. “He’s lonely; that’s all. And I can go up later. Come up and we’ll have a scratch lunch.”
Gus fixed Whippy’s lead, and set off. Miriam was still in her garden, and she greeted him warmly. “Supper tonight, Gus?” she called. “Rabbit pie with roast potatoes, and spotted dick for pudding!”
Gus smothered an impulse to give her a ribald answer, and explained that he might not be back in time.
“Well, if you are, just come in,” she shouted.
“She’s unsquashable, Whippy,” he muttered, and the little dog put her ears back in reply.
• • •
“NOW, AUGUSTUS, WHAT’S so important? Something new to do with Alf, or Ivy and Roy?” Deirdre ushered him into her warm sitting room.
In answer, Gus handed her the message. “Stuck under a windscreen wiper on Elvis’s taxi.”
“Oh my God, now what? Has Ivy seen this, or Roy?”
“No, Elvis brought it straight to me. Those two have had a nasty experience today, stuck in a lift, and he thought this might be the last straw.”
“And it’s Sunday tomorrow. Well, I can give you my opinion straight away. We get hold of Ba—Frobisher, and hand it over to him. Meanwhile . . . Well, meanwhile what?”
“One of us must talk to Rev. Dorothy, and tell her all about it. Then I’m sure she will agree to postpone the banns. She’ll think of something.”
“Maybe invent one or two church rules about banns that have been challenged?”
“So, will you come with me?”
“What, now?”
“No time like the present,” said Gus. “Come on, Whippy. If nothing else, we shall find out whether the Reverend Dorothy is a dog-lover.”
“She can stay here, if you like. We’ll probably be coming back here?”
